


she’s a sweet peach

by constantblur



Series: they're lesbians, harold [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (WHO LOVE GIRLS), F/F, flirting in the library, i love girls, mila just wants a picture of her beautiful girlfriend but her beautiful girlfriend is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: “Sara. Don’t be difficult.”Sara sets her shoulders back and imperiously raises her chin and is generally the very image of Difficult. “No pictures.”“Well, then,” Mila says, smirking in an absolutely infuriating way, “you had better start running, hadn’t you?”





	she’s a sweet peach

**Author's Note:**

> i?? was trying to work on a victuri longfic?? but i couldn’t stop thinking about cute saramila scenarios???? i love girls who love girls??????????

“Smile.”

Sara makes the mistake of glancing up.

A fraction of a second later, Sara ducks her head behind her book just as a blinding flash fills that corner of the library.

“Damn,” Mila mutters. “Sara, you weren’t supposed to _move_.”

Sara snaps her book shut. “You weren’t supposed to shove that thing in my face!”

“Why not?” Mila sets one hand on her hip while the other brandishes the DSLR. “You’ve got pictures of all of us—I want one of you.”

Sara crosses her arms and leans back in her seat, brows raised pointedly. “Using my camera?”

Mila approaches the table, smile unfurling on her lips in slow motion. “A camera phone simply doesn’t have the quality needed to truly capture your beauty.” Sara scoffs, sliding down in her chair a bit; Mila’s grin widens at the blush on her cheeks. “Come on, Sara. One picture.”

“I know which side of the camera I belong on,” Sara says, “and I just so happen to be on the wrong side at the moment.”

“Sara. Don’t be difficult.”

Sara sets her shoulders back and imperiously raises her chin and is generally the very image of Difficult. “No pictures.”

“Well, then,” Mila says, smirking in an absolutely infuriating way, “you had better start running, hadn’t you?”

Of course Sara shouldn’t be running through the library. The library is a sacred place, a _quiet_ place, a place of wisdom and literature and enlightenment. It is a sanctuary of knowledge, a haven of calm, and one simply does not run through it, ever. One simply sits at a table and turns the pages of a book and breathes.

Sara finds that she doesn’t particularly care about any of that at the moment. She’s laughing too hard and smiling that ridiculous smile that should never be caught on camera, and Mila is chasing her down an aisle of encyclopedias yelling, “ _Stop_ , you impossible ass!”

Sara’s _Bite me!_ lacks conviction, but the squawk of fury from the librarian sitting behind the counter sounds genuine enough. Sara doesn’t have time to acknowledge her disapproval, though, as she spots a staircase and races up it.

Sara’s just running, not paying much attention to where she’s going or who she’s come close to barreling into, just running and running and for once not _thinking_.

Which she winds up regretting very, very quickly.

“Damn,” Sara mutters, staring at the closed door with a sign plastered to it: _DO NOT OPEN_ , it screams in bold, red letters, _ALARM WILL SOUND_. A dead end. How had she wound up here?

“Hah!” Mila laughs in triumph. “Cornered. Nowhere to run now.”

Sara turns around, trying to contain the stupid, stupid grin that threatens to break loose all over her stupid, stupid face.

Mila saunters forward, hoisting up the camera. The smirk on her lips is suddenly not so infuriating. Sara just wants to laugh and throw herself into Mila’s arms, but that would be complete surrender. Complete surrender is unacceptable.

Mila’s grin softens the closer she gets, and then she’s forehead to forehead with Sara, noses just brushing, breath mingling. “Got you, Sara,” she whispers, and then she presses her body against Sara’s and kisses her.

Sara arches up into her, sliding one hand up Mila’s arm and another into her hair. Just a few seconds of weakness, that’s all. A moment of surrender, a moment of Mila’s hands and lips and hips. And then Sara twists away and darts past Mila, calling over her shoulder, “Not yet, babe.”

She’s around the corner and sprinting towards the staircase at the opposite end of the second floor before Mila even manages an indignant, “ _Hey!_ ”

Sara will let Mila take the picture eventually; she knows she’ll have to. But before Sara admits defeat and runs up the white flag, she’ll take a few more of those sweet, stolen kisses.


End file.
